The Horsemanship of the Ring
by TalkoftheTown4eva
Summary: How would the Fellowship be different if everyone had horses? No Moria, no Balrog... Summary sucks, just R&R please!
1. Changes in the Shire

Hey everyone who doesn't read my stuff! (And the rare few who do.  Kristy, thank you...)  This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings fic.  After seeing The Two Towers twice in 24 hours, you really wanna get out some of the things that you get to thinking about while you're watching Gandolf fall into Shadow for about the 12th time.  Well, I have some good ideas on how this is gonna work, and all I have to say is that I really hope it works out the way I've thought it out to be.  Now, read, and enjoy!  

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Disclaimer: I don't own Gandalf or Frodo, or hobbits, or the Shire for that matter.  But I do own the plot, and the ponies!  (I get the cute things....)

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This story goes out to you, Kristy.  You're the only one who's really consistently read any of my stories, and for that I am truly grateful.  I can always count on you to help me out and listen to my problems.  I hope that this story does a good job of combining two of your favorite things: Lord of the Rings and horses.  In case you don't know, Kristy's an awesome writer.  Read her stories!  Her pen name is Black-as-Knight14.

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         "The road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began..."

         The lonely line floated down the dusty dirt road and away toward whoever or whatever happened to have its ears open.  Grown hobbits heard it and groaned; this song could only mean that he was back.  Hobbit children heard it and grew excited; this song could only mean that he was back!  Driven by some unseen force, they all departed from their chores and, ignoring the calls of their parents, ran across the hillside to gather in a large mass before setting out to find out where the great wizard and his fireworks were hiding.

         They were, in fact, hiding nowhere.  The grey-cloaked wizard guided his cart slowly down the road, taking care not to miss the one whom he was to meet.  Finally the old man caught sight of the unruly brown curls, and with a small word, drew his horse to a halt.  

         Suddenly, a small hobbit burst out of the woods and into sight.  Drawing himself up into an important stature, he crossed his arms and spoke to the wizard.  "You're late, Gandalf!  You were expected to be here days ago!  Bilbo is almost beside himself in worry over what became of you!"

         The wizard Gandalf tried to suppress a small laugh, though his efforts were in vain.  "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins.  Nor is he early; he arrives precisely when he means to."

         Unable to hold in his delight any longer, Frodo uncrossed his arms and leaped into the wizard's arms, which were quite a long way away for a person of such short stature.  After a moment, the embrance ended and the hobbit took a seat next to the grey-cloaked man.  With another small word to his horse, the cart started up again, off farther into the rolling green hills.

         After a short distance had passed, Frodo spoke up.  "So, Gandalf, what news of the outside world?  Tell me everything."

         So the wizard proceeded to tell the hobbit about the troubles of the city of Gondor, the city of men, which was falling apart as they spoke.  He also told tales of the Elves in Rivendell, and of Elrond, their leader.  With a brief pause for shooting off fireworks, Gandalf ended with a simple, "Must appease the hobbit children.  I have traveled all over the world, yet the place that I love coming back to over and over again is the Shire.  Nothing here seems to change."

         A grin broke over Frodo's face.  "Now, that's where you're wrong, Gandalf."

         The wizard turned to the hobbit with a look of fake surprise.  The hobbits consider change to be learning that they are indeed related to their best friend, the old man thought.  This is not the first I've heard of it, nor will it be the last.  _But Frodo's different_, Gandalf thought. _Let's just hear what he has to say._  To the eagerly waiting hobbit he said, "Pray tell, Frodo."

         "I'd much rather show you," he said, eyes shining.  They were such an icy blue, very peculiar for a hobbit.  "Just take a right up near Brandy Westbranch's house.  There, that small path there."

         Gandalf chuckled; it was indeed a small path.  Unless one was meaning to find it, he would disregard it all together.  Indeed a line of bent blades of grass was all it was.  The wizard looked at Frodo questioningly, wondering if he meant to take the _next_ right.  But the curly-haired hobbit insisted, and so the wizard, without touching the reins at all, turned the cart onto the grass.

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         For a moment they seemed to be traveling to the back of the Westbranch estate, but the path soon veered to the left, away from the house and into a large field.  Growing more and more confused, Gandalf glanced uncertainly over to Frodo, wondering if this was perhaps some kind of joke that Meriadoc and Peregrin had put him up to.  But the hobbit was looking around eagerly, seeming to be searching for something in the vast plains before him.

         After five more minutes of steering his mare in what seemed an aimless manner, Gandalf turned to the hobbit.  Feeling somewhat uneasy at questioning his actions, the wizard almost didn't say anything.  After Bilbo, Frodo had always been his favorite among the halflings, and he trusted him with his life.  He knew that the hobbit, though known to participate willingly in the schemes of the troublemakers Merry and Pippin, also had a sensible, down-to-earth quality that ruled out any possibility of this being a joke.  But what could be out here that was a change to the Shire?

         Gandalf cleared his throat softly and went out a limb.  "Frodo?  What exactly are we..."

         "Aha!" Frodo's sudden outburst cut off the remainder of the wizard's question.  The grey-clad wizard stopped the cart and turned in his seat, looking to where the hobbit's outstretched finger was pointed.  "Look, Gandalf!  Can't you see?"

         "Er," the wizard fumbled with his words.  How was he to tell Frodo that he _didn't_ see?  Uttering a small word to his mare, the cart moved slowly forward once more, toward the hill opposite the hobbit's finger.  

         When the cart was beginning to climb the base of the hill, Gandalf dropped the reins, causing the forward movement to stop.  For at that moment, the wizard no longer needed to be closer; he could see perfectly.  

         At the top of the hill stood a small pony.  Its long black coat was curly, like the hair of a hobbit, and its dark mane and tail were wavy and tangled with burrs and leaves.  The pony's short, stocky legs were thin, yet his joints were somewhat large, as if to carry a load.  Its head was appropriately sized, except for the eyes, which, like those of hobbits, were quite large, and seemed to bulge a little out of the face.  This particular pony's eyes were black and looking right at the wizard, as were its tiny pointed ears.  

         Suddenly, the pony gave a shrill, high-pitched squeal and plunged down the opposite side of the hill.  Gandalf, wondering why there would be horses in the Shire, looked at Frodo for answers.  But the hobbit's eyes were intent on where the pony had stood but moments before.  

         After a few seconds of silence, Frodo turned to the wizard.  "Come on, Gandalf!  The herd must be on the other side of that hill!  You must see!"

         Still confused, Gandalf urged the mare on once more, and they set off again up the hill.

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Okay, I know this is a crappy place to stop, but I have to go to sleep!  I'm so tired....  I want to keep writing this SO BAD, but I can't for another 3 days, I guess.  You see, my friends are coming and sleeping over tomorrow, and we're gonna go see The Two Towers again!  This will be the third time in a week!  Oh well, I'll have more time to doze off the think about Frodo and the ponies!  I promise to explain all about them in Chapter 2, don't worry.  By the way, read my other stories too.  Thanks, and Pippin day after Christmas!     


	2. The Tibboh Seinop

Hey, I'm back.  Nothing really to say here, except to say thanks to tenshiamanda and Black-as-Knight14 for reviewing and telling me what they think.  I really appreciate it, guys.  So, here's more about the ponies!

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Disclaimer: I forgot to put in the last Chapter that I don't own the whole Fellowship/Ring/Quest idea either, so I own part of the plot, but only the parts with the horses.  I also don't own Gandalf or Frodo, but I still own the cute ponies!

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This is once again dedicated to Kristy, who has always believed in me and my writing, and gives me and will and motivation to carry on.

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         The mare pulled the cart up the hill with surprising ease.  Though she was quite small, her body seemed to possess a great wealth of strength that never ebbed.  Frodo watched in amazement as she pulled him and his friend to the top.  The sun shone on her chocolate coat and played in her ebony mane, highlighting every movement of her body.

         Finally, the cart reached the flat peak of the hill.  Gandalf stopped the horse, allowing her unnecessary time to rest.  He dropped the reins, and used this opportunity to gaze upon the land before him.  

         The back side of the hill was much less steep than the front, and it flowed down into a great field that stretched as far as the eye could see.  The tall grass and shrubs swayed in the light breeze that tore through the pasture.  A small stream cut through this field, dividing the area into many large areas, providing water for all.  

         Though the wizard found this huge expanse of undeveloped land quite astonishing in itself, what really opened his eyes were the ponies that were grazing on it.  The field was dotted with many-colored shapes, each one unique from the next.  There were about 25 ponies in all, making a up a small herd.  As Gandalf looked around, he spotted the black one that had stood on the hilltop.  Realizing that he must be the lead stallion, the wizard began comparing him to the others.  There was indeed a resemblance among them all; they all possessed the large eyes and joints, and each pony had the same curly coat and wavy mane and tail.  _But what are these ponies doing in the Shire?_ Gandalf thought to himself.

         Frodo turned to the wizard, hope in his eyes.  "What do you think, Gandalf?"

         "This is... quite a change indeed, Frodo Baggins," the wizard answered uncertainly.  "But, what exactly are they?"

         The hobbit grinned.  "They're hobbit ponies, Gandalf!  Well, Tibboh Seinop is their proper name, but it's such a mouthful that we just call them 'ponies'."  He paused, but went on when the wizard didn't say anything.  "That black one over there?  The one that was on the hill?  That's Bilbo's, and he's the leader of the herd.  You know, it was Bilbo's idea to bring these ponies into the Shire.  Now, that one over there..."

         It was here that Gandalf cut him off.  "Why exactly _are_ the ponies here, Frodo?  Why did Bilbo bring them into the Shire?"

         This question seemed to catch the curly-haired hobbit off guard.  His eyes became worried, as if remembering something painful, and he turned away from the wizard to look out over the herd below.  There was a long moment of silence between them, and the only sounds that could be heard on the hill were those of the ponies in the field eating and playing.  

         It seemed like an eternity before Frodo broke the silence.  He spoke in barely a whisper, not turning away from the ponies to look at Gandalf.  The wizard had to lean closer to the hobbit to hear what was being said.  "They didn't stand a chance....

         "Some months ago, when Bilbo was just starting the preparations for his party, rumors came that some hobbit-folk on the outskirts of the Shire were hearing strange voices and noises outside of their houses.  They were not the shouts of a fellow hobbit, but rather of some creature that we knew nothing of.  

         "Us hobbits further in the Shire thought nothing of these rumors, for information can become twisted over long distances, and even the clearest message can become incomprehensible.  But the messages continued to come, until they were nothing more than cries for help.  Bilbo was the only one of us who thought that these messages could be true, and so one night, he left Bag End for the outskirts of the Shire.  I insisted to be allowed to come along, and he finally agreed.

         "We walked all night and reached the edge of the Shire just as the sun broke over the peaks of the Ered Luin.  As the light increased, we were met with a sight that will linger in my mind for all time.  For there, fleeing across the plain away from the Brandywine River, was what looked like a family, a family of Men." (A/N: I don't think that hobbits called them "people" or "humans", but it wasn't a family of gay men, alright?) 

         At this point of his recount, Frodo stopped, and Gandalf feared that the hobbit would not continue.  But after a moment, his voice rose out again, as soft and weak as before.

         "They were on foot, carrying all of their belongings either in their hands or on their backs.  It seemed that they had been running for a long while, and that their stamina was spent.  The smaller ones lagged, and the older ones stumbled so that their progress was painfully slow.  This was the closest that Men had ever been to the Shire, and Bilbo and I feared that one of them would turn and see us.  But they neither turned nor seemed to realize where they were.  They seemed to be so frightened by their pursuer that it didn't matter where they ran, just so long as it was away from him.  And when he came into view, we understood why.

         "Their pursuer was a man as well, cloaked, and armed with a bow and a sword.  He rode atop a tall horse, golden as the sun and swift as the wind.  The distance between hunter and prey shrank, until," and here Frodo shuddered.  "until he caught them."

         The hobbit stopped, not wanting to elaborate on what the man did.  Expecting more, Gandalf waited.

         "Afterwards, Bilbo seemed quite upset.  We took the rest of the day to return to Bag End, with my uncle muttering and planning all the way.  We were not far from home when he took me aside.  

         "'Frodo,' he said to me.  'What you saw this morning was a warning, a message sent to us Hobbits for whoever would listen.  That family would not have been caught had they had horses as well.  Dark times are upon us, my boy, and we must be prepared.  We Hobbits mustn't allow ourselves to be caught.'  And with that he set off once more, still talking to himself in hushed tones."

         Now was the first time that Frodo turned to look at Gandalf since he had started his tale.  The wizard was surprised to see tears forming in the ice-blue eyes.  "As soon as we reached Bag End, Bilbo announced that he would be leaving for a few days to take care of some important business.  Two days later, he returned with Smaug," Frodo turned and pointed to the black lead pony. "Escandil," He pointed to a dark chocolate brown pony. "Kelandri," He pointed to a smokey grey pony. "Rovirdil," He pointed to a rust-colored pony. "and Nrimalar." He pointed to a golden pony.  "They are the five original Tibboh Seinop, out of whom the entire herd has formed."

         Seeing that Frodo had finished, Gandalf stepped in.  "Did Bilbo tell you where he acquired these five?"

         "No," Frodo answered.  "When I asked him, my uncle changed the subject, so I pursued it no further."

         The wizard nodded.  "I see.  Do the ponies belong to anyone?"

         Frodo smiled.  "Smaug is Bilbo's, and he gave Escandil to me.  The others have no owners yet."

         This seemed to satisfy and confuse Gandalf at the same time.  "So these ponies are meant to help the Hobbits flee from danger should they be attacked.  But why are there so few of them?  There are surely not enough Tibboh Seinop in this herd to save the entire Shire.  What do those who do not have one think?"

         Frodo quickly cast his eyes downward.  "Well, you see, Gandalf, not everyone knows about them.  This field used to belong to the Brandybuck family, but then Bilbo bought it from them to house the ponies and didn't tell anyone.  Since it's private property, no one ever comes back here, and Bilbo's only told enough hobbits about them so that each would have one.  As the herd grows, so will the number of hobbits who know."

         "That Bilbo," Gandalf muttered.  "Always getting in over his head.  Frodo, did you ever think about what would happen if you Hobbits were attacked tomorrow?  What would those who didn't know think when they see you and your uncle galloping to safety on ponies?  Isn't that quite a big risk to take?"

         Frodo considered this for a moment, then sighed, defeated.  "You're right, as always, Gandalf.  I shall announce the existence of the Tibboh Seinop at Bilbo's birthday party tomorrow."

         "That's a good lad, Frodo my boy." Gandalf said, patting the hobbit's shoulder.  "Now, what do you say about us going to see that uncle of yours?"

         "No thanks, Gandalf," Frodo answered, turning to get out of the cart.  "I think I'll stay here with the ponies."

         "Very well," the wizard said.  "I shall see you at the party, then."

         Frodo got out of the cart, and turned to Gandalf, who was preparing to turn the cart.  "Bag End is just over that ridge over there.  Why don't you let your horse out of the cart and let her graze with the herd?"

         Gandalf chuckled.  "Frodo, my boy, you never cease to amaze me.  I'm afraid that wouldn't be a very good idea.  You see, this is nothing more than a common cart horse, borrowed from my friend of afar.  I cannot trust that this horse would stay within the borders of the field, and my friend would be quite disappointed if she was to run away."

         Seeing the confused and let-down look on the hobbit's face, Gandalf smiled.  "You still have much to learn about horses, Frodo Baggins.  Why, any common horse would run for freedom as soon as he was let loose.  What were you thinking making that offer?  Did you believe that I had come with Shadowfax, lord of all horses, hitched to my cart?"

         With that, the wizard turned the cart and started back down the hill, leaving a disappointed Frodo behind.  The hobbit didn't want to admit it, but he had believed it.

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I know it was really long, but I hope it cleared up some of your confusion (if you had any) about the Tibboh Seinop and why they were in the Shire.  Thanks for reading, and please review!  Thanks!         


	3. The Wisdom of Bilbo

A/N: Hey everyone who doesn't read my stuff!  Now I have to add staran, Huntress of the Night, spiritofthenorth, Kat Heiman, and Black-as-Knight14 to my list of thank yous for reviewing.  People, if you read my story, please take the 1 or 2 minutes to review it.  It's not that hard, and I really appreciate being able to tell that people are reading it and see what they think.  Is that really too much to ask?

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything I didn't own last chapter.  But I own everything I did then, and more...

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Once again, this is dedicated to Kristy.  

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         Trying to sort out everything that he had just heard, Gandalf clucked to the mare and continued through the grass.  He hardly noticed when he reached the main road, mindlessly turning right toward Bag End.  He continued on the well-marked road all the way to the residence of Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit responsible for the introduction of horses to the Hobbits.  Not trusting himself to stay calm around the hobbit, the wizard took more time than usual in securing his mare, making sure that she was comfortable.

But when he could delay it no longer, Gandalf turned and walked up the path to the round door, hardly noticing the sign on the gate.

         Four hard raps on the door with his staff brought Bilbo to the door, hiding behind it and calling out that he didn't care for any more visitors today.  Slightly annoyed at this, Gandalf spoke loudly, "And what about very old friends?"

         This prompted the old hobbit to open the door immediately.  When he laid eyes on the old wizard, his face lit up and a smile broke out upon it.  "Gandalf!"

         Gandalf couldn't help but smile at Bilbo's pure delight at seeing him.  "Bilbo Baggins," he said warmly.  "Why so surprised?  You didn't think I'd miss your birthday, did you?'

         "Of course not, Gandalf," Bilbo responded quickly, not wanting to seem as surprised now.  

         "Besides, the children would be quite upset if they didn't have my fireworks.  I've gathered some of great magnificence," the wizard mentioned a little stiffly as he and Bilbo moved into the sitting area.

         "Oh really?" Bilbo commented, only half-listening.  The hobbit had made his way across the large room and was rummaging through a trunk, gathering things and transferring them from the trunk into a small knapsack.  "You always did have the children's best interests in mind.  Yes, I suppose it always is for the children"

         "When the children of Men come of age, they receive their own horse," Gandalf suddenly brought up.  Even though Bilbo's back was to him, he saw the hobbit stiffen visibly.  After pausing for a moment, the wizard added, "What do the children of Hobbits receive?"

         Bilbo sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat.  He turned toward the wizard, but would not look at him.  "So I suppose Frodo told you, then?  About the Tibboh Seinop?"

         "Yes, Frodo seems to be quite interested in the ponies.  He couldn't wait to show them to me." Gandalf reached out and put a light hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Do not take my words as ridicule, old friend.  I am simply trying to understand what it was that drove you to bring horses into the Shire."

         "Did Frodo not tell you?" Bilbo looked at the old wizard, his eyes filled with the same pain that had filled his nephew's.  "They couldn't get away, Gandalf.  No matter how far they ran, the horseman always caught up with them.  I saw that and thought, 'That's just like us Hobbits.'  If we were attacked by men with horses, there would be not escape for us, just as there was no escape for that family.  I know that we would like to think that our presence in Middle Earth will go unnoticed forever, but we can no longer hope to survive on that wish.  We must have some way to save ourselves."

         Gandalf smiled briefly, wishing that the world and those in it did not have to change.  "You know much for a Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins.  I cannot argue with reasoning such as that.  I only wish to warn you that the existence of the Tibboh Seinop can not stay a secret forever.  Frodo has already agreed to announce them tonight to the guests of your party.  I assume you are bringing Smaug with you?"

         When the wizard mentioned that the Tibboh Seinop were to be revealed to the Hobbits, Bilbo's expression grew tight and worried.  "Do you really think that is such a good idea?  It will surely cause more trouble than good among the members of the Shire."

         "It is better than keeping them a secret until the time comes when they are needed." Gandalf assured him.  "Do not worry, Frodo will know what to say."

         "I suppose you're right," Bilbo admitted.  "I'm just thankful that I won't be around to witness the aftermath of the announcement."

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         A few hours later, Gandalf left to find a place for his cart and fireworks.  Alone once more, Bilbo sat by the fire, deep in thought.  He didn't notice that Frodo had entered Bag End until the young hobbit put his hand on his shoulder.  "Bilbo?"

         "Huh?!" Bilbo cried, jerked out of thought.  Startled, Frodo took a step back from the chair, suddenly very sorry to have interrupted his uncle.  Bilbo turned in the chair and saw Frodo standing behind him.  "Oh, so it was only you.  Did you need something?"

         The hobbit's ice blue eyes were worried, questioning.  "Only to tell you that guests have begun to arrive.  What shall I tell them?"

         "They're arriving _already_?" Bilbo asked in disbelief.  "Oh, just tell them that the party will start when they were told it would start, and not a moment earlier.  They shall just have to entertain themselves until then."

         Frodo nodded, and turned to leave.  But Bilbo stopped him. "Frodo!"  His nephew turned.  "The guests can wait.  Here, have a seat.  There is something that we need to discuss."  Frodo looked questioningly at his uncle, but took a seat in the second wooden chair that sat in front of the fire.  

 "Frodo," Bilbo began slowly.  "Gandalf told me that you told him about the Tibboh Seinop." Frodo looked uncomfortable at this accusation.  "I understand that you wanted to tell him, but you must understand that it is extremely important to keep them secret to non-Hobbit folk."

"But I only told Gandalf!" Frodo protested.  "We can trust him!"

"That is true, my boy," his uncle went on.  "But Gandalf also told me that you are going to annouce their prescence at my party this evening.  I agree with the decision to tell them to the hobbits at the party, but no one else must know about them."

"I know, Bilbo!" Frodo protested again.  "I understand more than anyone how important it is to keep the Tibboh Seinop secret!"

Bilbo sighed.  "Alright, Frodo.  I am sorry for thinking that you didn't.  I eagerly await your announcement of them to the Hobbits tonight.  Do not forget!"

Frodo rose from the chair and turned to leave.  "I won't Bilbo.  I will go find Gandalf and see how the preparations are coming along."  

The Hobbit had opened the door and was about to walk out into the warm evening when he stopped and turned back.  Bilbo was still sitting in front of the fire, silhouetted in the dancing flames.  Suddenly, a great mass of ash flew out of the fireplace and swirled around Bilbo's head, making his hair seem thin and grey.  Frodo gasped to himself; Bilbo looked so old!  _Something must be amiss._ Frodo thought as he stared at his uncle.  _Why else would he care so much about the Tibboh Seinop?  Gandalf will know._  Tearing his eyes away from the old Hobbit, Frodo turned and walked out of Bag End and into the quickly darkening Shire.

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         Okay, there's another chapter.  It might be short, it might be long, I'm not exactly sure.  But that's it.  Um, I got a comment that the Hobbit ponies should have another name.  If anyone has any suggestions, leave them in your review, email them to me, or IM me sometime.  I do love reviews though....  Oh, one more thing before I go.  Black-as-Knight14 has a new story called The Value of Friendship.  It's another LOTR fic with horses, only she adds a totally awesome Elf character and hers starts in Rivendell.  Check it out!   


	4. Frodo's Pursuit

A/N: Hey again y'all!  I just came back from being in Savannah for three days, so that's why I haven't updated in a while.  Roswell's chorus and orchestra were performing in the SEMEA (I think) Convention thingy.  The chorus did _really_ good, and the Chamber orchestra did okay (I was kinda out of tune the whole time though cause my 'cello was so cold!!).  Especially Maggie and Chris, with their solo thing and all.  (Notice how I'm not saying that Joseph did well...)  Well anyway, back to the whole fan fiction thing.  I wanna shout out to tenshiamanda, Black-as-Knight14, and Alynna Lis Eachann for reviewing chapter 3.  Oh, and Alynna Lis Eachann brought up a good point in her review.  This story is following the movie, not the book.  I've seen FOTR more times than I'd care to count, and the book just bores me.  Sorry for any confusion that might have caused anyone.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or anything affiliated with it, but I do own the plot, the ponies, and, um, well I guess that's it.

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Once again, this is dedicated to Kristy, my buddy for ever!!!  Thanks so much for all you do!!

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            Bilbo's long-awaited party had finally begun.  After his awkward talk with his uncle, Frodo had gone to the grounds and put the finishing touches on the banners and tents.  Gandalf had, however, been too busy setting up his fireworks to talk with Frodo, so the Hobbit was left to mull over his thoughts alone.  This left his mood nothing less than dismal when the party began, but it was nothing that a few ales with friends couldn't fix.

            "Go on, Sam.  Ask Rosie for a dance," Frodo laughed as he left the dance floor.  Not taking the chubby hobbit's 'no' for an answer, he took his friend's arms and swung him around, right into the beautiful hobbitlass.  "There you go, Sam!" he called out, glad for the shy hobbit.

            Suddenly craving another ale, Frodo got up from the bench and made his way to the table where the kegs were kept.  As he shouldered a path through the crowd of hobbits, he caught sight of his uncle telling his famous story to the hobbit children.  The dark-haired hobbit could tell by Bilbo's gestures that he was telling his listeners about the trolls.  Knowing that his uncle always took a break after the trolls, Frodo changed direction and approached him, wanting to apologize for the way he had acted earlier.

            "There I was, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls," Bilbo was saying as Frodo approached. "and they were all arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to cook us, whether it be turned on a spit or whether they should sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly.  They spent so much time arguing the whether to's and why-fore's that when the sun's first light cracked over the top of the trees and _poof_!  It turned them all to stone!"  Bilbo paused to let the children get over their excitement before he continued.  "Now then, I think this is a good place to stop for a moment to let old Mr. Bilbo take a rest.  Run along now."  

            It wasn't until all the hobbit children had gone that Frodo approached his uncle.  "Bilbo..."

            His uncle turned.  "Frodo, my boy!  How are you enjoying the party?"

            "It's absolutely wonderful, Bilbo," the younger hobbit answered truthfully.  "It will surely be talked about for generations to come.  But what I came here to say was..."

            But Frodo never got to finish the sentence.  For at that moment, Merry and Pippin's scheme had gone underway, and the great firework shot into the sky.  It erupted, taking the shape of a gigantic flaming dragon.  At first stunned by its sudden appearance and great beauty, the hobbits then panicked when it turned to swoop over the party.

            All apologies forgotten, Frodo turned to his uncle, who alone didn't seem worried by the firework.  "Bilbo?" he asked worriedly.  "Bilbo, look out for the dragon!"

            "Dragon?" Bilbo responded skeptically as Frodo pushed him to the ground.  "Nonsense!  There hasn't been a dragon in these parts for a thousand years!"

            Nevertheless, the dragon skimmed the ground, barely missing the cowering hobbits.  It then turned upward and shot high into the sky, where it exploded, showering the Shire with color and light.  The hobbits clapped and cheered, fully over their fright.  They all then made their way to the party tree, all except Merry and Pippin, who were sentenced to dish washing under the watch of Gandalf.

            Once all the hobbits were gathered, Bilbo climbed onto a table and stood before them.  In response to an overwhelming request, the hobbit began his speech.  "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots: Today is my 111 birthday!"

            At this announcement, the crowd erupted, with Frodo cheering the loudest of all.

            "Alas," Bilbo went on.  "Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.  I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."  The crowd went silent as the hobbits tried to comprehend what Bilbo had just said.  Frodo, who understood it perfectly, chuckled softly to himself, but stopped when his uncle's voice rang out again.  It had a different tone to it this time, a sort of anxious edge to it.

            "I, uh, I have things to do.  I regret to announce that this is the end.  I am going now.  I bid you all a very fond farewell.  Goodbye."  And with that, Bilbo vanished, to the surprise and horror of his guests.  

            There was a brief moment of silence, after which the hobbits began talking loudly and moving around, looking for where the hobbit that had been there but a moment before had gone.  Frodo was the only member of the crowd who stayed where he was.  After thinking for a moment, the hobbit realized where his uncle had gone, and got up to leave.

            Suddenly, Frodo felt a hand on his shoulder.  Turning, he saw Sam behind him, a worried look on his face.  "Where did he go, Mr. Frodo?"

            Glad that his friend was so concerned, Frodo smiled.  "I'm not entirely sure, but I think I know.  Come along, let's see if I'm right."

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            The two hobbits reached Bad End minutes after Bilbo left.  Exhausted from running, Frodo opened the door and entered, Sam bringing up the rear.  

            "Bilbo?" Frodo called out.  "Bilbo, are you here?"  He was answered by the silence of the empty house, the dark rooms and hallways suddenly seeming more threatening.  

            After a few moments, Sam whispered, "What now, Mr. Frodo?  Where do we look now?"

            Frodo turned to Sam, his eyes determined.  "Follow me."

            The dark-haired hobbit led his friend through the dark hallways and into a small room.  After turning a light on, the hobbits were presented with a modified tack room.  Small saddles rested on racks on the walls, and tiny bridles hung from hooks underneath them.  

            Sam stood in awe and confusion as Frodo rushed forward.  He grabbed a bridle, which he shoved into Sam's hands, and took one for himself.  Quickly turning off the light, he led his friend back through Bag End and into the night.

            As they rushed down the main road, Sam pressed Frodo for information on their destination and the strange bridles in their hands.  Frodo wouldn't say anything, though, so Sam was forced to wonder in silence.

            The gardener's confusion only grew when Frodo turned at the Westbranch estate.  Running through the grass was easier on the hobbits' feet than the road, and they made good time getting to the hill that Frodo had led Gandalf to earlier that day.  

            When they reached the hill, Sam was glad to stop.  He wasn't used to running great lengths, and he was certainly in no great shape to do so either.  Panting, he turned to Frodo, who was staring off into the quickly darkening night.  "Frodo, what are we doing here?"  

Frodo had been surveying the pasture, looking for any sign that Bilbo had been there before them.  He found it in what he didn't find: Smaug was not among the ponies in the pasture.  "Bilbo's been here," the hobbit muttered to himself.  He then turned to Sam.  "There's no time to explain, not if we want to catch Bilbo.  Just trust me, and don't ask questions."

Frodo started down the hill toward the herd, Sam following closely behind.  When they reached the bottom, Frodo motioned for quiet, and the two hobbits crept silently toward the grazing ponies.  

The dark-haired hobbit reached Rovirdil and stroked his neck.  "Sam," he said softly.  "Hand me your bridle."  Sam, not believing his eyes, mutely handed the piece of tack to his friend.  Frodo slipped the bit into the rust-colored pony's mouth and fastened the bridle around his head.  The hobbit then gave the reins to Sam.  "This is Rovirdil.  Get on him while I get Escandil."

The gardener looked at Frodo incredulously, but did as he was told.  With little effort, he swung his leg over and found himself seated on the pony.  Frodo left him little time to savor the moment; he had bridled and mounted his pony quickly and rode up beside his friend.  "Bilbo has gone, but to where I don't know.  He has taken Smaug, his pony, and this is the only way that we can hope to catch him.  Ride hard, Sam.  Rovirdil will take care of you."  Before Sam could protest, the blue-eyed hobbit kicked Escandil with his heels, driving him into a quick-strided gallop.  Not wanting to be left behind, Rovirdil followed suit.

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            Frodo guided his pony northeast through the stream and toward the Old Forest.  He sat confidently on Escandil, using both his legs and his hands to steer the pony through the terrain.  Behind him, Sam bounced and slammed onto Rovirdil's back, not at all comfortable on top of a horse.  They traveled at a pace that was surprisingly fast for such little horses; their strides seemed to eat up the ground.  

            Along the way, Frodo would often stop and look for signs of Bilbo's passing.  After about ten minutes of riding, the signs became fresher and closer together.  "Smaug is tiring," Frodo announced happily.  "He is older than our ponies.  We may catch them, Sam!"  Sam smiled weakly; the effects of the ale were catching up to him, and all he wanted to do at the moment was go to sleep.  Frodo remounted, and they set out once more.

            They slowed their pace to a quick trot now that Frodo was confident of the trail.  They hadn't been going for long before Sam heard a noise coming from somewhere beside them.  "Mr. Frodo!" he called out, but his voice was lost to the wind.  He was about to call out again when a great horse jumped in front of the ponies.  

Startled, both Tibboh Seinop shied, then bolted.  Frodo kept his seat and urged Escandil forward, past the horse and rider.  Sam, however, was unseated by a buck from Rovirdil, and landed rather unceremoniously in the dirt.  

The hobbit gasped for breath, the wind having been knocked out of him.  His right side ached, but he struggled to sit up.  He was met with the chocolate horse towering over him, its rider cloaked in grey so that his face couldn't seen.  Sam couldn't find the breath to call out, and could only wait until the horse was upon him.

Frodo, noticing that Sam was no longer behind him, turned in the saddle and saw the scene playing out.  "Sam!" he called out as he turned Escandil sharply to the left.  Spurring the dark pony on, the hobbit raced toward the larger horse, determined to save his friend. 

As he reached the side of the chocolate horse, Frodo leaned left, preparing to grab its reins.  But then, the grey-cloaked rider's hand shot out the grabbed the bridle of the hobbit pony, causing him to stop abruptly while turning almost 90 degrees to the left.  Taken by surprise and being off balance, Frodo couldn't stay on, and fell to the ground beside the giant horse.

Frodo recovered more quickly than Sam, and was on his feet just in time to see Escandil trotting over to the patch of green grass where Rovirdil was busy grazing.  Realizing that they were now completely unable to escape, the dark-haired hobbit hurried to Sam's side, prepared to fight to the end.

            The two hobbits stood before the rider and his horse for some time, neither party making the first move.  After a few moments, the rider relaxed somewhat and spoke.  "You had best retrieve your ponies before they decide to move on to a place that they like better than the Shire."

            As soon as the hobbits heard the voice, they knew exactly who the rider was.  "Gandalf?" Sam asked incredulously.

            The rider nodded and took off his hat, revealing the wrinkled face and bright blue eyes that everyone knew as Gandalf's.  "It is indeed I, Samwise.  And now that you are no longer facing an enemy, would one of you care to tell me what prompted you two to embark on a ride so late in the night?"

            "We must find Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed.  "There is something I must tell him."

            "Ah," Gandalf said with a smile.  "There is something that _you_ must tell him.  If Sam has no business with Bilbo, why bring him along and involve him so closely in something that he does not understand?"

            "Please, sir," Sam spoke up nervously.  "I asked to come along with Frodo.  It's true that I don't understand these ponies or why Frodo has them, but..."

            "And you have no reason to understand them, Sam." Frodo broke in.  He suddenly seemed ashamed and looked down at the ground.  "I broke my promise to Bilbo and to you, Gandalf.  In the confusion that followed Bilbo's disappearance, I forgot to tell the hobbits of the Tibboh Seinop.  That is what I must tell Bilbo.  Where is he, Gandalf?"

            The wizard sighed.  "Your uncle has gone to stay with the Elves, Frodo.  Smaug has taken him partway to Rivendell by now.  He is beyond the reach of you and your ponies."

            Frodo would not accept this fact.  "But I must speak with Bilbo!"

            "Whatever you had to say will have to wait," Gandalf said sternly.  "There is a bigger problem at hand.  I can not tell you here; his spies are everywhere.  Retrieve your ponies and come with me back to Bag End.  Hurry!  There is no time."

            Confused, the hobbits let their trust of Gandalf take over as they approached the patch of grass and remounted their ponies.  Then, with Gandalf and his mare in the lead, they traveled through the night back to the Shire.

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Okay, there's another chapter.  If you must know, Frodo and Sam leave the Shire in the next chapter and meet up with Merry and Pippin.  Once again, if anyone has a problem with the ponies' name (Tibboh Seinop) and thinks that they have a better name, please put it in your review!!  I'm always open to suggestions about anything, not just the names of the ponies.  And, as always, read the stories of Black-as-Knight14.  


	5. Four Hobbits on Horses

A/N: Hey there everyone!  I wanna start out by telling you all how pleased I am with the response that I've gotten toward this story.  It's such a great feeling to know that people actually like reading what I write.  So, that having been said, I'd like to thank Aguachica, tenshiamanda, Alynna Lis Eachann, Black-as-Knight14, and eleni for reviewing.  Before I go on, I just wanna put the heads up out here.  Throughout the story, I'm probably gonna use some of the deleted scenes, like those that they put in the Extended DVD version thing.  Just fyi in case you come across something that you don't recognize from the movie, 'cause, in case you forgot, I am following the movie.

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Disclaimer: Don't own anythin but the shirt on my back....  (And the ponies and the pony parts of the plot.  But wouldn't you rather hear about my shirt?)

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Kristy....  You rock!!  This story is yours and yours alone!  I'm just writing it...

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            The sun broke over the horizon, sending streaks of pale light racing over the gardens and Hobbit-holes of the Shire.  As it rose higher into the morning sky, the silhouettes of three persons on horseback could be seen walking along the ridge.  Luckily for them, the Hobbit-folk were too busy cleaning up after the previous night's party to pay them any heed.

            Gandalf rode in the front, leading the two Hobbits behind him to a safe place to begin their journey to Bree.  Behind him rode Frodo on Escandil.  The dark-haired Hobbit was quite somber, thinking over all that he had learned from the wizard the night before.  After putting their ponies away, Gandalf had led them back to Bag End and told them about Bilbo's ring and Sauron coming back to find it.  Frodo understood the great responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders, but was still confused as to what exactly he was to do with the Ring.  But Sam was the most confused of all.  Riding behind Frodo on Rovirdil, he had had two shocking revelations to contend with the night before.  He had learned of the Ring and Sauron, but he had also been told of the Tibboh Seinop, a fact that took much persuading by Frodo to make him believe. 

            Sam leaned forward and patted Rovirdil's neck.  Frodo had given the rust-colored mare to Sam the night before, and the sandy-haired Hobbit was still unsure as to what to do with her.  He was still uncomfortable on horseback, especially after his fall.  But Frodo had assured him that Rovirdil was safe and that riding was the only way that they could complete their mission.  Not wanting to leave his friend riding to Bree alone, Sam had finally agreed to accompany him.

            Gandalf led the two halflings into a grove of trees, where he stopped.  "This is where I leave you," he said as he turned to face them.  "Be careful.  Both of you.  The enemy has many spies in his service: birds, beasts.  Never put the Ring on, Frodo, or the road to Bree will be more troubled than it already is.  I must depart to see the head of my order; he is both wise and powerful."  He turned his mare toward the South and called as he set off:  "Make for the Inn of the Prancing Pony!  I shall be waiting for you there!"

            Frodo and Sam watched the wizard gallop away and didn't turn their eyes until he was no more than a spot moving across the horizon.  Then Frodo turned to his friend.  "Well, I guess we're to set off then.  Come along, it's not a bad ride to Bree, if Gandalf's directions are true."

            He turned Escandil and rode east.  Sam turned Rovirdil to follow and said, half to himself, "Everything about Gandalf is true."

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            Riding swiftly, the two Hobbits and their ponies reached the Eastern edge of the Shire by nightfall.  Planning to continue out of the Shire at dawn, Frodo and Sam made camp near a farmer Hobbit's vegetable patch.  After eating a quick meal, they tied their ponies to two nearby trees and settled down for the night.

            Sometime near dawn, Sam woke with a start.  He listened closely and could hear loud rustling noises coming from close by.  Immediately thinking of danger, he shook Frodo awake, and the two Hobbits hurried to pack up their camp and leave as quietly as they could.  Frodo untied the ponies while Sam threw water on the fire, and they then mounted and walked swiftly down a small hill and into the road.  Remembering what Gandalf had told him, the dark-haired Hobbit motioned to for them to get off the road, and he and Sam led their ponies into an area of thick brush.

            Suddenly, shouts and sounds of running could be heard above them.  "Someone's gotten into Farmer Maggot's crop," Sam whispered to Frodo.  

            Frodo was about to respond when loud crashes could be heard.  Then, from nowhere, Merry and Pippin fell to the ground at the foot of the hill, arms full of vegetables.  From behind the brush, Frodo and Sam watched the two troublemakers congratulating themselves over the amount of food they had stolen.  

            The questing Hobbits were about to slip quietly out of the bushes and through the woods when a sharp, high-pitched screech suddenly arose.  The four Hobbits and two ponies turned to look down the road, trying to see what was approaching.  All six got more than they had bargained for.

            Charging down the road toward them was a single rider, cloaked in black, atop a huge black steed.  It let out another piercing scream that froze the blood of the watching Hobbits and caused Escandil and Rovirdil to prance nervously.  As it approached, it seemed to be riding toward Merry and Pippin, who were still lying in a heap on the ground.

            Though restricted by the brush, Frodo and Sam managed to mount their ponies and break out onto the road.  They were met by the shocked faces of Merry and Pippin.  Seeing the black rider approaching, Frodo turned his chocolate pony in the other direction.  "Come on, Sam," he said softly.

            Sam was about to turn when Pippin spoke.  "Frodo?" he asked.  "Look Merry, it's Frodo Baggins!  And Sam!"

            "On horses," Merry added quietly.  He was about to say more when the rider shrieked once more.  He began again.  "Frodo..."

            "What are you doing here?!" Pippin interrupted, becoming frantic.  Frodo turned in the saddle and gazed sadly upon the young Hobbit and his friend, the black rider coming ever closer.  He then turned and urged Escandil into a trot.  Sam, looking confused, followed suit.

            "He's abandonin' us, that's what he's doin', Pip!"  Merry's voice rang out.  "He and Sam are all high and mighty on their no doubt ill-gotten horses so's that they're leavin' us for dead!"  He yelled something else, but it was drowned out by the pounding of hooves as the black rider was almost on top of the two Hobbits.

            Sam looked over his shoulder and saw this.  "Run!" he called out.  "Get up and run!"  He then turned to Frodo.  "How can we do this?" he called into the wind.  But his friend, eyes intent on the horizon, either couldn't hear him or chose not to.

            Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin had gotten up and were running as quickly as they could down the road where Escandil and Rovirdil had carried Frodo and Sam but moments before.  But no matter how quickly they ran, the black rider was slowly gaining ground.

            _No matter how far they ran...  They didn't stand a chance..._  The image of the family and their pursuer flashed through Frodo's head, their vain attempt to escape.  But instead of the family, it was Merry and Pippin being chased by the Man on the golden horse.  It was Merry and Pippin that he caught, that he...

            Tears blurring his vision, Frodo yanked on the right rein, causing Escandil to turn head-to-tail.  After a moment of hesitation, the Hobbit spurred him forward, toward Merry and Pippin.  Sam, realizing what his friend was doing, quickly followed suit.

            The Tibboh Seinop reached the running Hobbits in a matter of seconds.  "Get on!" Frodo yelled.  "Hurry!"  

            Not giving it a second thought, the two quickly seated themselves behind the saddles, Pippin behind Frodo and Merry behind Sam.  Frodo and Sam then turned their ponies once more and urged them onward, away from the quickly approaching rider.

            Hardly feeling the added weight, Escandil and Rovirdil flew down the road, moving at a surprising speed.  The Hobbits then guided them off the path and into the woods, where their small size proved to be a great advantage.  Maneuvering through the trees, the Tibboh Seinop soon lost the black rider and its great charger.

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            When Frodo was sure that they were no longer being followed, he slowed his dark brown pony to a walk, and Sam did the same for Rovirdil.  The four Hobbits were quiet for a few minutes after that, neither pair knowing what to say.

            Finally, Pippin spoke up.  "What are these ponies?  You didn't steal them, did you, Frodo?"

            Frodo looked uneasily at Sam, but, remembering his promise to Bilbo, finally said, "No, Pippin.  Sam and I didn't steal them.  They live in the Shire."

            "What?" Merry asked.  "There are no horses in the Shire!  That's crazy-talk!"

            "No, it's true!" Sam spoke up, defending his friend.  "They're Mr. Bilbo's ponies.  We'll show you the herd, won't we, Mr. Frodo?"

            The dark-haired Hobbit smiled at Sam's new-found love of the Tibboh Seinop.  "Yes, Sam, we will."

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            "So _this_ is what Bilbo did with the land he bought from us Brandybucks," Merry mused quietly as he and Pippin stood on the hill and gazed upon the herd for the first time.  Frodo and Sam stood together a little ways apart, grazing their ponies.  

            "So what do you think?" the dark-haired Hobbit asked.  

            "They're amazing!" Pippin exclaimed.  Merry nodded in agreement.

            "Well," Frodo went on after shooting Sam a quick sideways look.  "Since you're already sort of a part of Sam's and mine's quest, do you two want ponies?  Then you could come with us."

            Pippin's eyes lit up at this offer, and a grin broke out on Merry's face.  "Sam will have to return to Bag End to get the rest of the tack," Frodo continued.  "But it shouldn't delay our plans too much."

            Sam turned Rovirdil and made for the ridge that separated the pasture from the property of Bag End.  Once there, he tied up his pony and entered the Hobbit-hole on foot, where he collected the tack and some more rations.  He then remounted Rovirdil and returned to the other Hobbits.

            Meanwhile, Frodo gave Merry and Pippin their ponies.  "Merry, you take Nrimalar, the golden mare by the stream.  And Pippin, you take Kelandri, the grey stallion over there.  They are two of the original Tibboh Seinop, and you can trust them with your lives."

            Frodo then told them the history of the Tibboh Seinop and how to care for them until Sam returned with the tack.  They then tacked up and the four Hobbits on horseback set out to make up for the time lost.

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Alrighty, there's Chapter 5.  In case you don't know, I absolutely **love** Pippin.  I mean, it's like an obsession type thing.  But not really that bad.  Well, whatever.  The point is that I'll probably be giving Pippin some of Merry's lines and basically making Pip _way_ more important and prominent than he was in the movie.  Just wanted to let you know that.  Read my other stuff, and be sure to review and tell me what ya think!


	6. The Help of a Stranger

A/N:   I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update!!  Sometimes life throws you stuff that you just have to deal with immediately.  But without (much) further delay, here's the part that all you pathetic fangirls (sorry Ser) have been waiting for.  Our adorable Hobbits reach Bree and meet up with Strider, who, get this, has a horse too!  Wow, I'm so predictable, it's almost scary.  Before I start, thanks to tenshiamanda, Alynna Lis Eachann, and Black-as-Knight14 for reviewing.  Gee, we sure see those names a lot...

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Disclaimer: Do you really want to see this again?  The only new thing I have to say is that I don't own Bill the pony, but I do own Strider's mount, whatever his name ends up being.

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This is once again dedicated to Kristy, with a side note to Ser.  You can stop asking me to hurry up with Aragorn because here he is!

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            The dreary grey sky that had loomed over the traveling friends all day disappeared into the night.  As if desperate to be remembered, it opened up and let out its rain.  The heavy drops poured down, flooding the streets and soaking the Hobbits and their mounts to the bone.  

            Eager to reach Bree before dawn, Frodo had set a quick pace and was only spurred on by the evening rain.  The Hobbits' journey to the town was uneventful.  The mysterious black horse and rider didn't return, but its shrieks could be heard echoing throughout the surrounding woods.

            "Merry?" Pippin whispered to the Hobbit beside him.

            "Hmm?" Merry responded, not really paying attention.

            "I'm hungry," the young halfling complained.  "And wet.  When are we going to get there?"

            "Soon, Pip." his friend comforted.  "We'll be there soon enough."

            The four traveled through the woods for a few moments longer, making their way toward a small light that shone through the thick trees.  When they crossed the tree line and reached the side of the cobblestone road, Sam exclaimed, "We're here!" 

            "Finally," Pippin muttered.

            Frodo led the Hobbits across the road and to the door of the West Gate.  He motioned for the others to dismount, and then turned and knocked on the tall wooden wall.  He gave Sam an uncertain look before he heard the gatekeeper moving behind the wall.  "What do you want?" he called out nastily.

            "We're heading for the Prancing Pony," Frodo answered.

            The gatekeeper opened the small viewing slot in the door and looked upon his callers.  "Hobbits!  Four Hobbits on horses!" he exclaimed.  "What business brings you to Bree?"

            "We wish to stay at the inn," the dark-haired Hobbit answered vaguely.  "Our ponies require lodging as well.  Our business is our own."

            "Alright young, sir, I meant no offense." the lanky man defended himself as he opened the gate to let the Hobbits and their ponies through.  "'Tis my job to ask questions after nightfall.  There's talk of strange folk abroad.  Can't be too careful."

            The halflings led their ponies down the crowded street, following the flow of the people, hoping it would lead them to their destination.  The Men looked upon the travelers and their horses with disapproval.  

            "I don't like how they're lookin' at us, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered to his friend as they passed through the crowd.   

            "Don't worry, Sam," he whispered back.  "Once we meet with Gandalf, he'll take the Ring and we can leave this place."

            "Look!" Pippin exclaimed softly.  The other three Hobbits' gazes went to the object that their young friend was pointing at.  _The Prancing Pony_ was spelled out in a gently curving script on the small wooden sign above the door.  Glad that their quest was almost over, the four friends hurried to the rear of the large inn.

            When they reached the stable area behind the inn, the four halflings approached the stable keeper.  A tall, burly Man, the stable master towered above them, his dark, unwashed beard almost touching their heads.  

            Timidly, Frodo spoke up.  "Excuse me, sir."

            The stable keeper turned from the bridle he was oiling and faced his callers.  Shock, then amusement flashed across his face when he saw the Hobbits and their tiny ponies.  "Good evening little masters!  I had thought that I'd seen it all, but then you and your mounts came along.  What may I do for you?"  
            "We are staying at the Prancing Pony, and our horses require lodging." Frodo explained.  "Perhaps you can help us?"

            The stable keeper chuckled.  "Of course I can!  Just follow me."  Glad to be accepted, the four Hobbits followed the large Man back outside and into a large, run-down barn.

            The Man walked down the aisle and stopped in front of four smaller stalls.  "Here they are: four small stalls for four small ponies.  You can untack them inside."

            Grateful, the four Hobbits each led their horse into a stall.  They each took off their pony's saddle and bridle, and then gave them a quick brush-down.  Merry finished first and brought his tack out of the stall.  He was startled to see the stable keeper still standing in the aisle.  The Man was lingering by Nrimalar's stall, gazing intently at the golden mare.

            The Hobbit set the saddle down and went up to the Man's side.  "Can I help you?"

            The barn keeper looked over at him.  "Oh no, I'm just admirin' your pony.  How did you come to possess such interesting horses?  I certainly haven't seen this breed before"

            Merry froze, remembering what Frodo had said about keeping the origin of the ponies secret.  Fumbling for words, the Hobbit stammered, "Eh, er..."

            "They were given to us," Frodo suddenly appeared behind his friend, speaking slowly, his tone deliberate and forceful.  "By a friend.  Where they originated and their breed are of no concern of yours, or anyone's."  The dark-haired Hobbit turned to face Sam and Pippin, who had come into the aisle as well.  "Come on, the ponies will be safe here tonight.  Good evening, stable master."

            Frodo turned and walked down the aisle into the pouring rain outside.  His friends followed closely, leaving the stable master standing alone and bewildered beside the Tibboh Seinops' stalls.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            "Sam, he'll be here," Frodo whispered to his friend.  "He'll come."  After learning that Gandalf wasn't at the inn as he had promised, the four Hobbits found refuge in the bar area of the establishment.  Already put off by the stable keeper's extreme interest in the ponies, Frodo's mood was only worsened by Merry and Pippin's lack of concern about the wizard's absence.

            Rolling his eyes as Pippin rushed to the tap once more, Sam glanced behind him and turned to his friend.  "That fellow's done nuthin' but starin' at us since we arrived."

            Turning as well, Frodo set eyes upon the filthy Man in the corner.  His sunken face and stringy hair were illuminated periodically by the glow of his pipe-weed, making him appear even more threatening and malicious.  The Hobbit shuddered slightly and quickly turned away.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            "You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. 'Underhill'!" the Man loudly whispered as he grabbed Frodo roughly by the cloak and tossed him up the stairs behind his table.  Caught off guard, Frodo tried to remember what had happened moments before, but it was all a blur in his mind.  All that he could see in his mind was a giant Eye, wreathed in flame and staring right at him.

            Coming out of his confusion, the Hobbit observed his surroundings.  The Man had brought him into an ill kempt room, obviously his own.  The bed sheets were rumpled, and the thick torrents of rain outside couldn't be seen through the filth on the windowpanes.  Standing up cautiously, Frodo asked the Man, "What do you want?"

            "A little more caution from you," he replied, gazing curiously at the halfling.  "That is no trinket you carry, and no mere horse you ride."

            "I carry nothing," Frodo tried vainly to hide the presence of the Ring. "And my horse is my own.  He is none of your concern."

            "Indeed," the filthy Man scoffed, not believing the Hobbit's story.  He then turned his back to Frodo and pinched out the candles that burned in the window.  "I can avoid being seen if I wish.  But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift."

            Hearing this brought back memories of what had happened earlier in the tavern.  Quickly pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Frodo tried to find out more about the Man.  "Who are you?"

            Changing the topic quickly, he shot back, "Are you frightened?"

            "Yes," the Hobbit answered uneasily. 

            "Not nearly frightened enough," the Man pressed.  "I know what hunts you."

            About to answer, Frodo was cut short by a sudden disturbance at the door.  His three friends burst through, each wielding a simple and pathetic weapon.  Pippin waved his chair menacingly as Sam roared, "Let him go!  Or I'll have you Longshanks!"

            Amused, the Man grinned and sheathed his sword.  "You have a stout heart for a Hobbit, but that will not save you."  He turned to the dark-haired Hobbit.  "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo.  They are coming."

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            Frodo sat up in the bed, startled by the shrill shrieks that were coming from somewhere in the Inn.  The screams subsided, and the deathly silence that filled the town of Bree was louder than any verbal exclamation.  The Hobbit shuddered as he thought of what the Riders had done to their beds and what would have happened to them if Strider hadn't helped them.

            The other three Hobbits woke up as well, and all four friends faced the Man in the corner.  "What are they?" Frodo asked.

            Strider sighed and looked out into the rain.  "They were once Men, great kings of Men.  Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.  Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness.  Now they are slaves to his will.  They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead.  At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One."  The Man paused and turned toward Frodo.  "They will never stop hunting you."

            The Hobbit's eyes widened as realization sunk in.  Turning toward his friends, then Strider, then gazing outside, he made his decision.  "We cannot stay."

            Strider nodded.  "Gather your things.  We leave now."  He rose from his chair and began putting together small packs of his belongings.  The Hobbits' things had never been unpacked, so they remained on the bed and watched the Ranger, each lost in his own thoughts.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            The Man finally finished packing, and the five crept out of the room and down the hall.  Strider led the party and was making his way to a seldom-used back exit.  The four Hobbits followed quietly, jumping at every noise.  

            They wound through countless hallways and corridors, some well-used and some used hardly at all.  Each passage was dark and menacing, for Strider carried no light.  No movement could be heard from inside the many rooms that lined the halls because no one was quite sure if the Riders had left.  Rumors of the Nazgûl had spread quickly and no one was particularly eager to cross paths with them.

            After long minutes of running from shadow to dark shadow, the five reached the back door.  Slipping outside, they dashed from the Inn toward the run-down barn.  A flickering light shone through the windows of the barn keeper's apartment; Strider saw this and let out an inward sigh of relief.  There would be no questions asked that night.

            Glad to be out of the rain, Pippin dropped his pack in the aisle and seated himself on it.  The other Hobbits let it go, but Strider would have none of it.  "Come on," he ordered.  "Get up."

            "But," the young Hobbit began.

            "We must be as far away from Bree as possible by dawn," the Man cut in stiffly.  "Those Wraiths will do anything to catch up with us, the one thing we can not allow them to do.  And I will not be caught because of one Hobbit's laziness!"

            Shocked and a little ashamed, Pippin stood up, gathered his pack, and made his way to Kelandri's stall.  The smoky grey pony whinnied softly, as if he understood what had just happened.

            Sam was the first to get his pony tacked.  As he lead Rovirdil out of her stall, he noticed another pony in the aisle.  Its back was laden with packs, as if it was journeying with them as well.  Sam walked over to the pony and greeted him, stroking his nose and rubbing his neck.

            "That's Bill," Strider commented from a stall somewhere down the aisle.  "He's my pack horse, one of the best anywhere."

            "Oh yes," Sam replied nervously, quickly putting his hand by his side.  The Man still made him nervous, and the Hobbit wasn't sure if his comment had been a mere observation or if it had a deeper, more malicious purpose.

            The other three Hobbits finished with their horses and brought them into the aisle, which was beginning to become somewhat crowded.  After a few moments of hushed conversation, the four friends heard a stall door creak open from farther down the barn.  "Finally," Merry muttered.  The others nodded in agreement.

            The Hobbits watched as Strider emerged from the shadows leading his horse.  None were prepared for how gorgeous it was.  In the hands of the filthy Man were the reins of a flawless stallion.  His immense muscles rippled underneath his coat as he pranced in anticipation of the journey to come.  His coat was beautiful in itself; it was a deep blood-red that shone like rubies in the dim light of the barn.  He had a perfectly shaped head and his liquid eyes showed fire and determination.

            Seeing the halflings' reactions, Strider reached up and stroked his stallion's neck.  "This is Imiriepio. (A/N: That's Elvish for _jeweled cherry_.  Corny name, I know.  Just deal with it) He was a gift to me from the Elven lords, long ago when Sauron and the Ring still slept.  Now it seems that he will see the lands of his Fathers once more."

            "What do you mean by that?" Frodo asked as the group did a final hurried check to tighten girths and secure packs.

            "That's where we are headed," Strider said simply.  "Rivendell, and the House of Elrond."

            "Did you hear that?" Sam whispered excitedly to Merry.  "Rivendell!  We're goin' to see the Elves!"

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            The five travellers led their horses out of the barn and into the pouring rain outside.  They mounted and turned down the cobblestone road, Strider in front, followed by Bill and then the Hobbits.  The light was no longer in the stable keeper's apartment, but they passed by unnoticed.  

            When they reached the tall wooden gates of Bree, Strider paused.  A Nazgûl cry pierced the air around them and was answered by another cry coming from farther away.  "It is as I feared," the Man said.  "The Wraiths are close.  Come, we can not afford to stay here any longer."

            Strider turned his crimson stallion to the East and urged him forward.  Bill followed suit with surprising speed, followed by the Hobbits and the Tibboh Seinop.  Somewhere in the woods behind them, five Nazgûl gather.  Sniffing the wind, they too turn to the East and plunge into the dark twilight/

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

Wow, okay, that was long.  But I guess it's been a while since you've had anything new to read, so it all evens out in the end.  So, I hope you guys liked it, what with the arrival of Aragorn and all.  Please take the time to let me know what you all think about it, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!  As always, review review review!   


	7. Exchange of the Ring

A/N: Right, right.  Onward and upward!  The Fellowship must continue on their journey; we don't want the ponies' muscles to get cold.  (Geez, now I'm scaring myself!)  Anyway, now I have to say thanks to all the people who reviewed.  Alynna Lis Eachann, Aguachica, Kat Heiman, and Black-as-Knight14, thank you all.  I'm so glad that people like this fic!!!

                                                               *~*~*~*

Disclaimer: Um, let's see.  I own all the horses except Bill and Asfaloth.  I also own the horse plot, but I don't own all the stuff that you all know that I don't own.  You know?

                                                               *~*~*~*

This is for Kristy, as it always is.  You are such an inspiration to me, and I hope we can be friends forever!

                                                               *~*~*~*

         Many days of traveling passed, and the Hobbits, though grateful for the Man's help and leadership, were still wary of the Ranger.  He kept the group moving at a grueling pace, only stopping for food at dawn and dusk.  The four Tibboh Seinop had to adjust quickly to keep up with Bill and Imiriepio, who carried on day after day with almost unnatural speed and stamina.

         The group cleared a small ridge and came upon a large flat plain.  Sam looked up and gasped, reaching over and tapping Frodo's shoulder.  "Look at that!" he exclaimed to his friend softly.

         Frodo looked up as well and suffered the same reaction.  High above the horizon, a dark shape was framed in the failing light.  It was shaped like a large stone disk placed atop a small plateau.  At the top of the disk were many stone pinnacles or spikes, stretching into the heavens.

         "This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl," Strider explained.  "We shall rest here tonight."

         The evening continued to darken as the group neared the great watchtower.  When they reached the base of the great stone structure, the five travelers secured their horses on six gnarled trees.  Once sure that their mounts were safe, they found the winding stone stairs and began to climb them to the top of the tower. 

         Glad that their journey was over for the day, the Hobbits set their packs down and collapsed on Weathertop's cold stone floor.  Strider, who didn't seem at all exhausted, rummaged through his pack and pulled out a rolled bundle of cloth.  Motioning for the Hobbits to come closer, he unrolled it, revealing four short swords.  "These are for you," he explained as he handed them out.  "Keep them close.  I'm going to have a look around.  Stay here."

         Confused as to why the Man was leaving, the four halflings looked after him as he descended from the tower and mounted Imiriepio.  Their gazes followed him until he was swallowed up by the night and could no longer be seen.

                                                               *~*~*~*

         Frodo woke with a start.  After Strider left, the Hobbits had pulled out some blankets and, using their packs as pillows, turned in for the night.  Now, the dark-haired halfling heard voices and movement.  Looking to his left, he saw that his three friends were no longer beside him.

         Seeing light, Frodo quickly looked right and saw Sam, Merry, and Pippin huddled around a small fire.  They seemed to be cooking something.  "What are you doing?!" Frodo questioned loudly.

         "Tomatoes, sausages, nice crispy bacon," Merry said, as if that explained anything.

         "We saved some for you, Mr. Frodo," Sam mentioned helpfully.

         "Put it out you fools!" Frodo exclaimed as he stamped the fire out with his foot.  "Put it out!"

         "Oh that's nice!" Pippin yelled in annoyance.  "Ash on my tomatoes!"

         The young Hobbit's anger quickly turned to fright when a Nazgûl cry floated out from somewhere in the plain below.  The four halflings walked to the edge of the watchtower and gazed down into the twilight.  There they could see five dark shapes closing in on Amon Sûl.  "Wraiths," Frodo whispered.  He turned and motioned toward the stairs leading to the top of the structure.  "Go!"

         "But what about the horses?" Sam asked.  Merry and Pippin nodded their agreement.  "We can't just leave them!"

         Thinking quickly, Frodo revised his plan.  "Alright then, we'll have to try to outrun them.  Gather your things quickly."

         "But Strider told us to stay here!" Merry protested as the others began stuffing the blankets into their packs.  

         "I know," Frodo responded.  "But we have no choice.  We'll have to hope that he will realize what we've done and catch up with us." 

         Finished packing, the four Hobbits grabbed their things and fled down the steep stairs.  The Nazgûl cries were coming ever closer, and they seemed to be almost at Weathertop when the friends reached the trees where their ponies were tied.  They hurriedly untied the knots that bound their horses, and, trying to make as little noise as possible, tied the packs to the saddles and mounted.

         "Follow me," Frodo whispered as he motioned to the others.  He turned Escandil to the East and urged him forward into a quick-paced trot.  The others followed suit, the small hooves of their Hobbit ponies barely making a sound on the hard ground of the plains.

         The Hobbits heard the Nazgûl reach the base of Amon Sûl; they also heard their distress when they discovered that the halflings and their ponies were missing.  Afraid of being tracked, Frodo urged his mount into a quicker trot.  The Ring grew heavy in his pocket, dragging him forward and down in the saddle, urging him to turn around.  Its callings became stronger, and he slipped into unconsciousness.  _Baggins..._ the Ring whispered.  _Baggins..._

         Suddenly, a great crack broke the silence of the night.  Jerked out of his reverie, Frodo pulled Escandil to a halt.  Turning the dark pony around, he saw Merry and Sam, eyes wide with fear, turn to look at Pippin, who had fallen to the back.  The young Hobbit, a shocked and ashamed look on his face, glanced down at the ground by his pony's feet.  There, by Kelandri's small hoof, was a thick branch, broken in two by the step of a horse.

         "Pippin," Merry began, but was cut off by a shrill cry coming from directly behind him.  Looking, all four Hobbits saw the five Nazgûl turn their black steeds and charge toward them.  Forgetting everything but escape, the friends turned their ponies to the East once more and set off at a gallop away from the Wraiths and into the night.

                                                               *~*~*~*   

         They didn't get far before the Nazgûl overtook them.  The speed and stamina of the Tibboh Seinop were no match for the long strides of the black horses.  In one last attempt to evade the riders, Frodo turned Escandil sharply to the right, into an area of tall grass and brush.  The Wraith at the lead predicted this move and turned his mount as well, cutting off the small pony.  Frodo became unseated and landed on the ground, almost hidden in the brush.

         Seeing this, Sam motioned to Merry and Pippin, and the three spurred their mounts toward their fallen friend.  But the Nazgûl were once again quicker.  Two appeared out of the twilight, one on each side of Frodo, to cut Merry and Pippin off.  Sam reached his master's side, but was knocked off his pony as well by a third Wraith.

         Now all alone, Frodo lay in the grass, too frightened to move as the Black Riders closed in around him.  The calling of the Ring became stronger, and in a sudden loss of control, the Hobbit put the small gold band on.  

         Frodo found himself in a world that was similar to that which he had visited when he had worn the Ring in the Prancing Pony.  Colors swirled before his eyes, and the only things that were clear were the five shapes in front of him, the Nazgûl in their true forms.  Old, wrinkled faces of Men stared down at him, dark eyes unseeing, ancient crowns forgotten on their heads.  

         The Witch King reached out his hand, calling for the Ring.  In horror, Frodo felt his hand being pulled toward the evil being.  With all his available strength, he managed to pull his arm away just as the Wraith was about to take the Ring from his finger.  Enraged, the Witch King drew his sword and stabbed the Hobbit in the shoulder.

         Vision clouded by pain, Frodo removed the Ring and cried out it agony.  Sam, getting up from where he had landed in the grass, heard this and rushed over to his friend's side.  "It'll be okay, Mr. Frodo," he said softly.  "It's okay."  

         Suddenly, Strider galloped in on Imiriepio, a torch in one hand, his sword in the other.  He made quick work of the Nazgûl, either setting them ablaze or causing other harm.  The Man fought with great ease, not tiring until five Wraiths had fled.

         Merry and Pippin had joined Sam around Frodo, and all three were extremely worried.  "Strider!" Sam called out.  "Help him, Strider!"

         The Man dismounted and quickly reached the Hobbits.  He took one look at Frodo and sighed, averting his eyes and searching the ground.  After a few moments he found what he was looking for, and held it up.  "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," Strider said flatly as the blade in his hand dissolved in the wind.  "This is beyond my skill to heal.  He needs Elvish medicine."

         Realizing the severity of the situation, the three Hobbits turned and set out into the night to catch the loose Tibboh Seinop.  Strider stayed with Frodo, pulling cloaks and blankets out of his pack to ensure that the Hobbit was warm.  The Man silently cursed the halflings for leaving the protection of Amon Sûl, where he could have arrived sooner and prevented this from happening.

         Merry and Sam returned leading Rovirdil, Nrimalar, and Escandil.  The dark pony broke free of Sam's hold and trotted over to Frodo, nudging the Hobbit's hand and side.  The Ringbearer lifted his head slightly to acknowledge his pony's presence, but didn't have the strength to do anything more.  "Gandalf..." he whispered, barely audible.

         Pippin returned on Kelandri, leading Bill behind him by a rope.  Strider collected his pony, set Frodo in the saddle, and set off at a quick canter.  Sam, holding Escandil's reins as well as his own, followed next, and was in turn followed by Merry and Pippin.  The group of travelers were on their way once more, spurred on by the urgent matter at hand and the ever-present cries of the Nazgûl.

                                                               *~*~*~*

         After riding for most of the night, Strider halted the group at the Trollshaws.  The Hobbits dismounted and helped Frodo down from his pony.  They lay him on the ground underneath a tree, where he becomes delerious.  "Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked slowly.  He then turned to Strider.  "He's goin' cold!"

         "Is he going to die?" Pippin asked fearfully. 

         Strider, who is rummaging through his pack, turned toward the worried halflings.  "He is passing into the shadow world.  He will soon become a Wraith like them."  As if to confirm this, a Nazgûl cry floats out from somewhere in the surrounding woods.  Frodo gasps for air, his breathing quick and ragged.

         Strider and Sam depart from the others and venture into the woods, looking for the plant which will help slow the poison.  Strider found a small patch of Kingsfoil, and is about to cut it when a sword blade appears at his throat.  Another materializes farther down, pressing into his chest.  A soft female voice, slightly amused, asks, "What's this?  A Ranger caught off his guard?"

         The Man, realizing who it is, bowed his head in acknowledgement.  The swords return to their sheaths, and Strider stood up to face those behind him.  "Arwen," he said to the beautiful female Elf who had spoken.  "Glorfindel," he said to the male Elf who stood beside her.  "Mani naa llie uma sinome?" *_What are you doing here?*_

                                                               *~*~*~*

         Strider returned to camp, followed by the two Elves leading their horses.  Glorfindel was followed by Asfaloth, a stormy grey stallion with a mane and tail of twilight.  Arwen led Maltalkar(_Golden Glory_), a gilded mare with an ivory mane and tail.  They were met with looks of shock and surprise when the group arrived, but neither Elf paid the Hobbits any heed.  They both rushed straight to Frodo.

         Glorfindel assessed the situation and then returned to Strider, but Arwen stayed, murmuring things to the Hobbit.  "Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad..." _*Hear my voice.  Come back to the light...*_

         "He's fading," Glorfindel said to the Man.  "He's not going to last.  We must get him to Elrond.  We've been looking for you for two days.  There are five Wraiths behind you.  Where the other four are, we do not know."

         Strider turned to Arwen, who was standing with Frodo in her arms.  Strider placed him on Imiriepio in front of the saddle.  "Dartho guin berian.  Cora sen a'Rivendell." _*Stay with the Hobbits.  Lead them to Rivendell.*_

         Glorfindel stepped in front of the saddle before Strider could mount.  "Hon mabathon.  Rochon ellint im." _*I'm the faster rider.  I'll take him.*_

Strider had no choice but to agree.  Though Imiriepio and Asfaloth were both Elven horses, there was not doubt in anyone's mind that Glorfindel's horse was faster.  Frodo was quickly transported to the grey stallion, and the Elf mounted up behind him.  "Ae athradon i hir, tur gwaith nin beriatha hon." _*If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him.*_

"Beyest lin," Strider said as Glorfindel turned to leave. 

         "What are you doing!" Sam called out.  "Those Wraiths are still out there!"

         Arwen reached out and grabbed Asfaloth's reins before he could go any farther.  "The Hobbit is right!" she exclaimed  She caught herself and began again in a lowered tone so as not to be heard by the halflings.  "Periannath naa forya.  Nazgûl nauva soora lle, Glorfindel.  Lye illava ta na sana." _*The Hobbit is right.  The Nazgûl will follow you, Glorfindel.  We cannot allow it to be taken.*_

         "What can we do?" the Elf asked, frustrated at the delay.  "We cannot trust any other Man or Hobbit with the Ring.  And you dare not take it."

         "What if we give it to something that would not be tempted to use it?" Arwen mused.  Her eyes strayed to the tree where the Tibboh Seinop were tied.  "Something that could not use it?"

         "Ah!" Strider exclaimed, understanding the logic behind the plan.  He rummaged in his pack until he found a long length of rope.  Digging the Ring out of Frodo's pocket, he approached Escandil and tied the band around his neck, hiding the gold band in the pony's thick mane.  

         The Hobbits were impressed.  "The Wraiths will never think to look there!" Merry exclaimed.  

         "The perfect trick," Pippin agreed.

         But Sam was not convinced.  "The Wraiths will still follow Frodo.  He could still be caught!"

         Strider looked at the worrysome Hobbit and then turned back to Glorfindel.  "Noro lim, mellon." _*Ride hard, friend.*_

With Asfaloth's hooves pounding in the distance, the others hurried to repack their things and continue onward.  Seeing that Sam was still troubled, Arwen left her golden mare and approached him.  "Have faith, loyal Hobbit," she comforted.  "Your friend is safe with Glorfindel."

         The group was finally packed and ready to continue.  Arwen took the lead on Maltalkar, followed by the Hobbits, with Strider and Bill taking the rear.  Their pace was hurried, for though Frodo was no longer with them, they still carried an important burden.  Every traveler's eyes strayed to the neck of Escandil more than once on the way to Rivendell, but the occasional small glint of gold was the only proof of what was hidden in the dark mane.

                                                               *~*~*~*

Okay, I hope you liked that.  I sure did!  I'm so glad that they're finally getting to Rivendell and that this quest is finally moving along.  Oh, before I go, I have to say that I got the Elvish for all the phrases that aren't from the movie from The Grey Company's Elvish dictionary.  It's really a pretty cool thing.  Well, all that said, please read and review!


	8. Doubts of the Past

A/N: Okay, I'm here, and so are you, so I guess we can get started.  I'm writing this so that I can have an excuse to not update my Unicorns of Balinor fic.  I have such a humongous writer's block with it, it's not even funny.  Grr...  Oh well, that won't affect the progress of this story.  Thanks to Kat Heiman, Alynna Lis Eachann, Rivendellgurl15, and Huntress of the Night for reviewing.  You guys are very consistent reviewers, and I hope you all like this one!

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

Disclaimer: I don't _think_ that I own anything new in this chapter.  I might add some other Fellowship horses, but I'm not sure yet.  Just read and find out; you guys know what I own.  Oh wait!  Rivendellgurl15 owns Me'adal and Sulfeä.  

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

As always, this is for Kristy.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            The days that followed seemed like weeks to the five travelers as they made their way hurriedly to Rivendell.  Each worried about the safety of Frodo and Glorfindel, as well as that of himself.  The Ring was a dangerous burden, whether the carrier was able to use it or not, and the travelers often found themselves fearing what was around the bend or in the shadows, knowing that the Wraiths may very well have realized the deception and come to claim what was their Master's. 

             Even so, rest was necessary, and the travel-weary group found refuge for the night in a small thicket, away from the Road and out of view.  After tying the ponies to five nearby trees, the Hobbits unrolled their packs and turned in, all three snoring within a matter of minutes.  Smiling at the sight, Strider turned Imiriepio and set out to leave and scout the area.

            "Amin ilumaya tanya," Arwen's soft voice came from the other end of the camp, where she was carefully untacking her horse.  "Lle rina mani marte i'tella coiasira lle lembe i'periannath.  Uma naa amada ar'tatya quentalelle sine dome." _*I would not do that.  You remember what happened the last time you left the Hobbits behind.  Do not be a fool and repeat your account this night.*_

            Arwen's comment stung the Man and his pride.  Sighing, he turned to face the Elf.  "Amin nowe tanya lle feithaya yassen sem.  Ri'uma lle caela n'at menae triall, Sha'Quessir?" _*I thought that you would wait with them.  Or do you have other paths to walk, friend Elf?*_

            The She-Elf smiled at the title.  Though technically correct, it was not the address that she would have chosen, given their relationship.  "Come," she said, switching to the Common Speech and looking Strider in the eye.  "There are matters of which we must speak immediately.  Bring your horse here; he could do with some grooming and rest."

            Unwilling to argue and secretly glad to be relieved of scouting duty, the Man dismounted and brought Imiriepio to the tree next to the one to which Maltalkar was tied.  The crimson horse secured, Strider undid the many buckles and straps that held the saddle and packs in place.  After setting the heavy tack down, he grabbed a stiff-bristled brush and began working on his stallion's dirty, sweaty coat.

            A long silence lingered between the two, each traveler grooming in slience, mulling over his or her own thoughts.  Finally, Arwen looked up from her golden mare and studied Strider as he worked meticulously on a spot of dried mud under Imiriepio's stomach.  She smiled and said softly, "You care for him well."

            "Hmm?" The Man, jerked out of his thoughts, stopped and turned to the Elf, brush in hand.

            "Lle malia ten'Imiriepio eithel," Arwen repeated, going back to brushing her mare's already-spotless coat.  "Lle saisinta en'rokko." _*You care for Imiriepio well.  You know much of horses.*_

            "Diola lle," Strider responded, pleased with the compliment. _*Thank you.*_

            "But what do you know about the the Hobbits' horses?" Arwen asked suddenly, quite loudly, and in the Common Tongue.  Realizing this too late, the Elf stopped and prayed that she hadn't been heard.  But other than a Hobbit turning over in his sleep, the thicket was silent.

            Relieved, the Man answered in hushed Elvish.  "Amin saiuumsinta.  Periannath pande ai en'quenta en rokko e'narnsen." _*I do not know much.  The Hobbits included little of the horses' history in their tales.*_

            "San'ta naa vee'amin gorge," the female Elf said with a sigh.  She then turned her attention to Maltalkar once more. _*Then it is as I feared.*_  

After a few moments of silence, Strider turned to his horse as well.  Knowing that Arwen would say what was on her mind in good time, the Ranger wasn't worried.  If anything, pressing the Elf for information would only make her hold it in more.

His patience paid off.  "Estel," Arwen began.  "Amin dela tanya rokkoelle uum tuula numen." _*Estel, I worry that the ponies do not come from the West.*_

"What?" Strider exclaimed, forgetting to use the cover of Elvish.  "Not from the West?  But Arwen, where else would they come from?  Surely you're not saying..."

"That is just what I'm saying," the Elf said forcefully.  "Aragorn, what do you know about these ponies?  Or more importantly, what do the Hobbits know about them?  We Elves know enough about the history of Middle Earth to know that horses are bred by only three races: Elves, Men, and those races of the East.  Look at them." Arwen motioned toward the trees where the Tibboh Seinop and Bill were tied.  "Do they look like the mounts that are bred by your people?  Most of the horses of Men are tall and powerful chargers; small ponies are bred only for pack purposes and children's mounts.  Even so, the Hobbits' ponies do not resemble your pony in any way.  And they are certainly not bred by the Elves.  I do not feel the need to justify that point further."

Aragorn sighed.  "If only Frodo was here.  He did most of the talking about the ponies, and I am sure that he knows more about them than he shared."

"Then we must wait until we reach Rivendell before our questions will be answered,"  Arwen said.  "But do not let your guard down around the ponies, Aragorn.  They have been loyal thus far, but the ways of the Dark Lord are strange.  We do not know what their true agenda is."

With those words, the Elf deposited her brushes in her pack and prepared to stand the first watch.  Aragorn knew that he should get some rest, but Arwen's words rang in his ears and inhibited him from taking any action then.  All he could do was stare at Escandil.

The Man left Imiriepio's side and walked the short distance to where the five ponies were tied.  When he reached them, he went to the end of the line and stood next to Frodo's pony.  Remembering what Arwen had said, he dug his fingers into the pony's thick mane until he felt the cold metal of the Ring. 

Pulling it up and out of the coarse black hairs, Aragorn was about to take the golden band off of Escandil's neck when he heard a stirring behind him.  "Strider?"

Turning quickly, the Man saw Sam standing beside his sleeping companions, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a confused look on his face. 

"Strider?" the Hobbit asked again.  "Is everything alright?  I heard you and the Elf arguing, somethin' about the East and..."  His voice trailed off as he noticed that the Man was holding the Ring.  

"Is that Mr. Frodo's Ring?" Sam's voice was quieter now, filled in disbelief.  

"Yes," Aragorn responded, slowly replacing the band in the pony's mane.  "I was simply making sure that it was safe before I turned in.  Do not worry, Master Hobbit, the Ring is in good hands and will be in better hands once we reach Rivendell.  Now get your rest; we hope to reach Rivendell by dusk tomorrow."

After giving Escandil a good-natured pat, the Man crossed the campsite and lay down on an unrolled blanket by the fire.  Once he saw that the Man was asleep, Sam too lay down and went to sleep.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

            Aragorn lived up to his word, and by midafternoon of the next day, the travel-weary group turned the corner and set eyes on Rivendell.  The Hobbits grew excited, for none of them had been this far east before, and they were all eager to see Frodo once more.  

            The party filed into the valley that held the Elven city, Arwen in the lead, followed by Sam and Escandil, Merry, and Pippin, with Aragorn bringing up the rear.  "We will go to the stables first and make sure our horses are settled in," the Elf had explained prior to entering.  "We will then go to the Hall of Elrond to speak with my father.  He will give us instruction on what to do with the Ring."

            Arwen led them through the wide fields that covered the valley floor, the group frequently having to use intricately-carved bridges to cross a stream produced by one of the many waterfalls that flowed within the city.  The buildings of the city could be seen jutting out of the steep walls of the valley, including the House of Elrond.  At the far side of the fields, a great stable could be seen.

            As the group neared the stable, the horses began to grow anxious, especially Maltalkar and Imiriepio.  Elven horses by blood, neither felt truly at home anywhere else but with their own kind.  Aragorn's horse, who hadn't been to Rivendell in years, pricked his ears forward and began to prance and pull at the bit, straining to reach the stables quicker.

            In front of the stable and on the side of the path was a large ring in which a figure could be seen riding.  When the group reached the side of the ring, Arwen drew Maltalkar to a halt.  The Hobbits exchanged confused looks, and Aragorn sighed in frustration at the inevitable conflict that was about to unfold.  

            Arwen turned her mare to face the ring and called out, "Me'adal!"

            The figure in the ring heard this call, turned her horse, and cantered across to Arwen.  The horse was a pure, stunning white with dark, liquid eyes.  He moved with the perfect grace possessed only by an Elven horse, and his rider handled him well and moved with him in perfect unison.  At first the Hobbits thought that the rider was a male, but as the horse neared, it became obvious that he was being ridden by a female.

            "Arwen's sister," Aragorn whispered to the halflings.

            When her sister reached the fence, Arwen began talking in loud, rapid Elvish.  "Me'adal!  Mani uma lle?  Arvandorie, manka ere'atar eleaya lle!  Hama ve'adanedhel, mani ume lle nowad?  Atar naaya ruthae." _*Me'adal!  What are you doing?  Heavens, if only father could see you!  Sitting like a male, what were you thinking?  Father would be angry.*_

The Elf called Me'adal crossed her arms and gave her sister a smug look.  "Atar ilnaaya ruthae.  Ro valinuva iire amin nyara ho mankoi amin hamad sina men." _*Father would not be angry.  He will be happy when I tell him why I am sitting this way.*_

            Arwen was unimpressed.  "Ar'mankoi naa lle?" _*And why are you?*_

The younger Elf reached down to pat her snowy mount.  "Amin istimied miul pilinio ar'tury megil.  Sulfeä ar'amin nauva vee'quel vee'ai'adanedhel ri'ohtar e'dagora." _*I am learning to shoot arrows and wield a sword.  Sulfeä and I will be as good as any male or warrior in battle.*_

            Arwen let out a small chortle, obviously trying to suppress a stronger fit of laughter.  She finally composed herself and spoke.  "Amin ruwa i'seasa tanya tanya onuva a'atar.  Nyara ho rato, ten'ro ilnauva e'quelindo ale'ro tena mani lye caela nyar ho." _*I doubt the pleasure that that will give to father.  Tell him soon, for he will not be in a good mood after he hears what we have to tell him.*_

            Me'adal turned toward the rest of the group for the first time.  Studying them closely, especially the Hobbits and their ponies, she was quiet for a long while.  The halflings began to grow uncomfortable, not because her gaze was harsh or critical, but because the she-Elf seemed to be looking through their flesh and into their souls.

            Finally, Arwen grew impatient and turned to Aragorn.  "Come," she said quietly.  "We lose valuable time by lingering here.  We must secure our horses in the barn and appear before my father quickly."

            Listening to what her sister was saying and deciding that the party's task seemed more interesting than riding in circles for hours, Me'adal turned Sulfeä toward the center of the ring.  Once in the middle, she turned back toward the fence and urged her mount forward.  After soaring over the high white fence, the Elf caught up with the travelers and followed them down the path to the barn.

                                                                                    *~*~*~*

Okay, I know it's a crappy place to stop, and I wasn't planning on stopping there.  But I kinda promised someone that I would post tonight, and I really wanted to update sooner rather than later.  So you can hear more about Me'adal and the other member's horses in the next chapter.  Oh, and Me'adal and Sulfeä have adventures of their own.  You can read all about them in Rivendellgurl15's story The Value of Friendship.  The young Elf and her horse will appear in the next chapter and possibly the next, but definitely read the original fic to get the true sense of what they're like.  Thank you Anduril for helping me with the thicket thing (lol) and with that one sentence.  You're a great help!  Oh, and the Elvish is from the Grey Company's Elvish Dictionary.  Sorry if it's not all completely correct.  One more thing: **REVIEW!!**


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